


Whiskey

by Sailor_Mercury



Category: Girl Meets World
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, lucaya - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 12:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5049409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sailor_Mercury/pseuds/Sailor_Mercury
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who knew all those years she called him cowboy – or Huckleberry or Ranger Rick – she should’ve just called him whiskey because here she was at 4 a.m on a Tuesday morning with a bottle of Jack in her hand and a huge fucking hole in her heart. And it was all because of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whiskey

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first shot at Lucaya. I hope you guys liked it, sorry for any o.o.c. ness. Excessive language present, a future fic so slightly AU. Enjoy!
> 
> music inspiration // whiskey by jana kramer

She didn’t know if it was early morning or late at night as she sat at her kitchen table in the dark with an almost empty bottle of Jack Daniels in her hand. The whole apartment was silent except for the sound of her wall clock ticking and the occasional car passing by outside. She glanced down at the bottle of amber liquid, swishing it around in the glass as she sighed. 

Two years. It had been two years since he left and took her whole heart with him. She still remembered the last time she saw him, the way his green eyes looked so hurt, so vulnerable, and she’ll never forget the last words that came from those lips before he slammed the door. She hadn’t heard from him since, not a single word.

She put the bottle to her lips and tried to block out the memories, keep them from flooding back, but she knew it was useless. Everything reminded her of him, there was no safe haven she could go to and just forget about it all. He’d left his fingerprints on every part of this city, on every part of _her_. Hell, she was wearing the one shirt that had been forgotten, left behind. It was a plain blue button down – her favorite shirt – and she swore it still smelt like him. She could feel a ghost of him standing behind her, she could practically imagine his lips pressing against her neck softly and his fingertips trailing across her arms, leaving goosebumps in their path. She shook her head as if that could erase him and took a gulp of the liquor as she closed her eyes.

The first memory to come to mind was when she went down to Texas with him one summer, right after high school. She remembered washing dishes with his mother, hearing stories about her “baby boy” and it was the first time she really felt like she could belong in a family one day, have children of her own. She didn’t want to admit it back then either, but it was the first time she let herself think that maybe she could be part of his family.

She met his father and she swears, Lucas was the spitting image of him. His father had clamped him on the shoulder and called him “son” in just the way Maya knew he would. Then his eyes wandered to hers and he smiled and called her a “pretty little lady”. She still remembers the way Lucas laughed at that one and the way her cheeks flared redder than the tulips that were lined up in the garden beside them. 

She even got to see his Pappy Joe once again, and he still remembered her. Right when they walked up to that old porch, he laughed and tugged her into a bone crushing hug. She remembered the words he said, word for word. She could never forget them, actually. “I always knew you’d be back here. He needs a firecracker like you. You’re good for him, Maya Hart.” And that was the first time she let herself think she was good enough for Lucas Friar… that she was good _for_ him.

That summer was amazing. It was unforgettable. It was full of laced fingers and walks through the corn fields, and stolen kisses in the stables. They’d watch the sunset and they had a campfire almost every single night. And one particular night, under the Austin sky and stars, she gave him a piece of her she’d never regret giving to him.

God, it was the best summer of her life. Hell, it was the best time of her life. 

A siren blared outside, and it snapped her back into the present. It was like being transported, she was there and now she was here. She cpuld still smell the hay and gasoline though, like she was right back in that summer. It was the smell that she’d come to associate with Texas... with him. That called for another sip.

The alcohol made it hurt less. It made her feel numb sometimes, and that was a relief. In all these months he hadn’t even bothered to talk to her – to anybody. Well, Farkle might have been lying every time she asked “have you heard from him” and he shook his head, sympathetically, but she didn’t care. Farkle cared about her so whether he’d heard from Lucas or not, he was protecting her, being there for her. Still, for all she knew, he could be dead and buried six feet under. She didn’t know how to feel about that. She didn’t even want to think about that, so she just took another swig from the bottle and buried herself in more thoughts of him. 

The next memory to come flooding back was when they moved into an apartment together. It was a tiny, one bed room apartment and it was crappy to say the least, and a bit run down, but it was home. It was their home, and she loved it. She let him keep his cowboy hat on the coffee table and he offered to hang her paintings for her. They had a small, queen sized bed and she stole the covers almost every night. It got so bad that for her birthday the first year, he bought her her very own, separate blankets. They remained in the closet, untouched, and she continued to steal the covers from him every night. And he let her. 

He cooked pancakes for her, every Sunday morning, and she’d brew some coffee and they’d end up sitting there, at their tiny kitchen table, for hours. He’d do the crossword puzzle and mutter under his breath and she’d sketch and hum while sipping on some coffee. It was so simple and peaceful but she needed it. She needed those Sunday morning like she needed air. And on some mornings (more like most mornings), after an hour or two he’d smirk at her from across the table before walking over and picking her up in his arms, carrying her back to their bedroom to “pick up where they left off” (in his words, not hers). He’d end up banging her ankles against a door frame or hitting her head off the wall and she’d throw her head back and laugh loudly, freely, _happily_ (Tte laughs that used to echo down the hallways still haunt her).

It was just Maya and Lucas and their apartment. There were pieces of them scattered throughout it. They’d left their marks on the place, and it had left marks on them. Maya had never felt safer than when she was in his arms, in their bed, the sun rising over the skyline. She never belonged anywhere more than she belonged there.

Her phone rang, a harsh reminder of the present, and she glanced down as Riley’s name lit the screen. She glanced at the name, at the bottle, and back at the phone before reaching up and pressing “ignore”. She should’ve known. Riley knew her like a book, of course her best friend knew she was up, drowning herself in memories and alcohol. 

Who knew all those years she called him cowboy – or Huckleberry or Ranger Rick – she should’ve just called him whiskey because here she was at 4 a.m on a Tuesday morning with a bottle of Jack in her hand and a huge fucking hole in her heart. And it was all because of him.

Who the fuck was she kidding? It was all her fault. She put the bottle to her lips and threw her head back, letting the whiskey burn its way down her throat as the worst memory of all came rippling through to the front of her mind. 

It was a late Sunday night, or to be technical, too damn early on a Monday morning. Two years ago, exactly. She should’ve stayed in bed, ignored it when the weight of the body beside hers disappeared but she’s Maya freaking Hart and when has she ever done what she should? 

She slipped out from under the covers and tiptoed down the hall, towards the kitchen where Lucas sat at the kitchen table, the only light coming from the crappy light under the microwave. His voice was hushed, quiet, and he was running his hands through his hair. 

“Don’t worry, I just looked up some flights last night. I’m talking to my advisor today… I’m not sure if I can this semester, I might have to wait until after the break to… no, I haven’t told her yet…” That’s all Maya needed to hear.

“Told me what?” She watched as he stood up, eyes wide, and held the phone away from his face. He looked caught, red-handed, and it didn’t do anything to ease the thundering of her heart against her ribcage. He slowly put the phone back to his ear, muttering something about “calling you back” before hanging up and placing it on the table. “What do you need to tell me, Lucas?” She felt tears stinging her eyes and a lump in her throat and she was _scared_.

“Maya…” He started walking towards her cautiously but she shook her head, crossing her arms, putting a fence around herself.

“No. Tell me.” The apartment was so silent Maya was sure he could hear her pulse, hear her fears. 

“I need to transfer, Maya. To Texas.” Her blood froze and her body numbed and she couldn’t think. 

“What?” The word was heavy on her tongue and she didn’t even realize she was speaking. She felt her mouth open and the cracked word come out and then it was done. 

“Maya…”

“When were you gonna tell me?” Everything felt like it was falling around her. Transfer?

“Maya, I’m still looking into it, okay? But I have to, Texas has the best vet schools and we’re juniors. I need to get down there and start looking at my options.” She didn’t even notice him move until his hands were cupping her face, trying to get her to look at him, to focus on him but how could she when the world was spinning? “Maya, we can make it work, okay?” She hadn’t even realized she was crying until he was swiping tears away with the pad of his thumb. 

She shoved him away, hard, and she looked him straight in the eye as a burst of fear and anger pulsed through her veins. “Make it work? Lucas you’re leaving.” Her words were molten, they were fire and she was spitting them out. He looked frightened, eyes wide as he shook his head, trying to reach her again but she was guarded, more than ever. 

“No, I’m not.” 

“Yes you are! You’re going 1,700 fucking miles away, and you didn’t even tell me?” 

“Maya, I just started looking into it! I’m still not sure about anything yet.”

“But you want to.” It wasn't even a question. It was a statement and he didn't reply for a long time. They stood there in the kitchen, eye to eye, and she couldn't fucking believe that her worst fears were coming true right before her eyes

“I don’t want to leave you, Maya." 

“So don’t, I’ll come with you!” She would. She’d follow him anywhere.

“No you can’t.” That absolutely shattered her. Sent a knife through her heart and tore it in two. She didn’t even have words to describe the pain, it was just immense and _god_ did it fucking hurt

“You don’t want me to?” She’d never felt so fucking vulnerable in her life. You could put her on display, bare ass naked in Times Square and she still wouldn’t feel as exposed as that. Not only was he leaving her, but he didn’t want her to follow. She saw him shake his head, the green eyes she fucking adored glistening, and he looked terrified but she couldn’t manage to find anything inside. There was just pain and anger, pain and anger, and it took over. 

"Maya, no, that's not what I meant-"

“Fine then. Go to Texas.” She turned on her heel, storming into their room and pulling out a suitcase and any clothes that looked like his. She threw it all on the bed and she was just starting to stuff it into the suitcase as he walked in. 

“What? Maya will you calm down and just _talk_ to me?” She couldn’t think. If she stopped for a second she’d realize she should sit down and calm the fuck down and talk to him, face to face, and fix it. But as always, she was Maya Hart, and when was she ever rational? So she continued shoving as many clothes as she could find into the suitcase. He came over to her, trying to grab her arms, stop her, but she shrugged him off, angry and hurt.

“You want to leave me and go to your stupid vet school and stupid Texas and go back to being a cowboy. Well, howdy do, be my guest.” She knew it was unnecessary and she was lashing out and making things worse but the only thing she could think about was the fire and pain in her heart, and how she hated him for hurting her this bad.

“Maya, I love you! Will you please just fucking stop this?” He threw his hands up, following her as she dragged the suitcase out to the front door, dropping it on the carpet before whirling around to face him.

“Stop what? You’re leaving Lucas! And on top of that, you don’t want me to come. So don’t you _dare_ fucking say you love me because evidently you don’t.” She glared at him, challenging him just the way she used to all those years ago in junior high. And when he leaned in to kiss her (because no words were gonna get through to her, he knew that), her hand came up and the sound of skin on skin resonated through the apartment. 

It was a mistake and she knew it the second he turned to look at her, cupping his cheek, and his eyes were just as watery and broken as hers. “Maya…” He sounded betrayed to the utmost level and her heart plummeted as the red faded and her anger ebbed and she saw Lucas, the boy she loved, and he looked utterly hurt and betrayed.

“Lucas…” Before she could say anything else, his jaw set like steel and his eyes turned to ice and he grabbed the suitcase, headed straight for the door. She should’ve said something, _anything_. He would’ve stayed if she stopped him. She could say sorry and they could sit down and talk it out. She could say wait, I love you, don’t go, anything. But her vocal chords were numb and she watched with tears in her eyes and a grenade in her heart as he turned back and looked her dead in the eye. He looked hurt… vulnerable… broken. And she caused it. She wss the reason why. 

“I guess this wasn’t worth fighting for.” And then he was gone. 

She sobbed and cried for hours into the morning. She smashed bottles and broke canvases and she destroyed everything she could. Her heart was hemorrhaging inside her and she released all that pain on the outside. Even Riley and Farkle couldn’t stop her, couldn’t help her. The hurricane of heartbreak had to run its course.

Farkle came and packed the rest of his things two days after, when it was clear he wasn't coming back. She laid in bed the whole time, pretending to sleep. Her eyes were closed but her mind was fully alert. She heard his things being packed away, heard him being packed away, and when the door shut and she opened her eyes to see the shelf that had held his stupid trophy from riding Tombstone was empty, and the cowboy hat was gone, she fucking _lost it_. 

She must have cried her eyes dry and screamed her throat raw for hours until Riley barged into the apartment and held her. Her heart was tearing her apart from the inside out and she thought she might die. The only thing that got her through it was her best friend, holding her, stroking her hair, and whispering “shhh, it’ll get better”. 

Maya loved Riley to death, she loved her like a sister. But Riley was wrong. Riley lied. It never got better. 

After two years, here she was, sitting in his stupid blue button up with an empty bottle of whiskey in her hand. And it still hurt. 

The worst part of all? She loved him. She loved him more than anything and anyone, still, to this day. But he was gone. 

She sat there, staring at the empty bottle, relishing the last of the aftertaste that sat on her tongue. The whiskey was strong and it had numbed her a bit but not enough. It was never enough. And she knew she shouldn't, she knew she'd regret it, but she was Maya Hart. Her life was full of regrets, what was one more?

With trembling fingers, she picked up her phone and dialed a familiar number she knew by heart, even now. She waited, heart hammering and holding her breath, until the answering machine played its automated message and the beep sounded.

“Hi… it’s me. I know I shouldn’t be calling but… I’m sitting at our kitchen table in your shirt. You know, the one I really love? The blue button down? And, uh, it smells like you and this whiskey reminds me of your tan skin and I fucking miss you, Lucas.” She couldn't hold it in anymore, and she broke down, sobbing. Her voice was broken and crackly and so damn watery but she kept going.

“I miss you so much. I still remember the way you used to smile at me, and the way you used to hold me. I miss the way you made me laugh Lucas, I miss the way you made me _feel_. And I know, I sound so fucking sappy right now, but I just miss you. I still remember the pancakes, do you remember that? Every Sunday, right? You know, I still sit at the table every Sunday. It's not the same though, I kind of just stare at the clock and wait for an hour or two to pass by. And at the end you've stil not there, and it hurts. Oh, and I remember the way you fucking tasted. It’s crazy, but I do. It’s like a bitter aftertaste that never leaves, no matter how many bottles of this stuff I go through.”

“I’m sorry I made you leave. I fucking pushed you right out the door… right out of my life. I always was a fuck up. I fucked up everything… I fucked up the best thing that ever happened. I’m sorry. If I could take it back, I would. Without a fucking second thought. I’m so broken without you... but I can’t take it back. I’ll never get you back. And that’s good, Lucas. You don’t deserve to be thrown back into this. I always knew you were too good for me Friar… More than anything though, I'm sorry if I broke your heart. If it helps, I broke mine too...“I’m tired of feeling like this, Lucas. I’m tired of hurting. I see things and they remind me of you and every time it’s like a punch to the gut. I can’t _breathe_ when it happens. You’re everywhere. Hell, you’re even in my mind. I can’t escape you anywhere. The alcohol helps, but it all comes back eventually. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be calling, but I just needed to tell you something…

“Maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s me, but I wish you picked up… I just wanted to say I love you, Lucas Friar. I love you, I really do. It’s been two years and I bet you’ve already found a nice, sweet little Southern Belle to settle down with, and that kills me… that it’s not me. But I know it’s my fault. I did this… so I just hope you’re happy, Huckleberry. I love you. I always will. Don’t forget that.”

She paused and glanced at the phone, waiting for the machine to play back her message. As inebriated as she was, she knew she had to delete that message. So she would. She would pretend the whole thing never happened and try to bury everything and anything Lucas related in the back of her mind. But something was wrong. The machine didn’t play back her message, and after two minutes of sitting there, waiting, she realized she could hear someone breathing on the other side. 

“Maya?”


End file.
